Survival
by chemicalflashes
Summary: A most hidden war is raging across the country. He is not new to being hunted. The place is different, but the hunt goes on. It always does as long as there is right and wrong and something to fight for. And no one knows this better than those who struggle to survive and exist in this grey mess. Welcome to the twisted and treacherous life of Colin Creevey. [decayverse]
1. Prologue: Of Chases And Hunting

**A/N: This story is a part of my canon compliant** _ **decayverse**_ **series and it** **continues the (very, very) dark themes and elements of my previous one-shots, 'Gasoline', 'State Of Decay', 'Choking On Unspoken Words', 'Firewhiskey And Fireplaces' and 'Somewhere All My Darkest Dreams Are Gathering'.**

 _ **You don't have to read them to understand this**_ **, but I would really appreciate it if you did.**

. . . ...

 _ **Survival**_

 _Prologue: Of Chases And Hunting_

•••••

"The sad truth is that the truth is sad."

— _**Lemony Snicket**_

 **05:45 am; 24th December 1997; Lower ranges of the Quantock Hills**

The place is different, but the hunt goes on. It always does as long as there is right and wrong and something to fight for.

Muggle-borns are made to be hunted and hexed and chased because they are something different and _thieves_ who steal magic. They are not made to fit anywhere, much like pieces from a long lost puzzle. Before this year they had suffered at the hands of pureblood elitists in the school they studied at and now they are suffering even more. They are running and somehow surviving out there.

The Snatchers attack in the wee hours of the icy morning, sudden and unpredictable like the conniving brutes they are.

The two of them are in the middle of packing up, shrinking their supplies and dismantling their tent when Colin gets hit by the yellow light of a spell on his left shoulder, getting his wand arm paralysed in the process. He spins around to see his assailant running away, presumably to inform the other members of his gang that he has found a pair of mudbloods to hunt. His brother tries to jinx the man but he is out of his range. The crafty yet foolish Snatcher has just given them some time, but it is not enough. There is not much time to pack up their supplies properly.

"Run, Dennis! Go away!" he murmurs desperately as he hears the sounds of the giddy men running towards their direction.

"What, alone? Aren't you coming?"

"No. I can't."

His brother begs him to come with him, cries even as he hastily gathers some of their pots and pans and drops them into their large sack, but Colin Creevey is unflinching in his decision. After all, there is a limit to how much a too old and stolen broom can carry without splitting into two useless pieces. Lord knows their supplies are heavy enough in their un-shrunken, original form and he cannot risk breaking their only means of secure and fast transport.

"Fly away, now! You know what our next stop is. Go there! I'll come for you," he hisses, clutching his paralysed arm.

Dennis looks conflicted and his eyes are red and watery.

"NOW!"

His brother reluctantly disillusions himself and their supplies and sits on the broom, finally taking off when the Snatchers are all assembled around them. He knows that Dennis will be safe; he is good with a broom, unlike him.

Colin whips around to face his enemies, transferring his wand from his currently useless left hand to his right one in the process. All of them are grinning in a most evil fashion, the red armbands on their coat sleeves looking positively devilish.

"Is the ickle mudblood lost?" one of them mocks him. The gang of hooligans is closing on him.

But Colin is only half listening to their mocking jeers. He is more concentrated upon spotting a clear path of escape among the brutes surrounding him. Suddenly, an idea strikes him. Maybe these men could become the first victims of his wicked invention?

Now it is his turn to grin evilly.

He says nothing as he brings out one of the deodorant cans out of his pocket and throws it in front of them. Before anyone can ask what it is and what he is doing, he blasts it open with a shrill cry of ' _Bombarda Maxima_ ' and immediately afterwards creates a shield around himself. The broken can releases a yellow-green gas.

 _Rule One of Survival: Surprise is the key to escaping._

He can see that they are shocked from the loud explosion and mildly curious to know what is coming out of the blasted can and he knows that this is his chance to escape away. He pushes his way out through the men quickly before they can realise what is going on. A few of them have started coughing already.

Good, he thinks. Breathe more of the poisonous chlorine that I just released and die.

The idiots who had been standing behind in the circle come to their senses after a very short while. The idiots who are coughing fall onto the snow covered ground, choking and stuttering.

He runs, his long, multicoloured scarf flapping wildly behind him and he disillusions himself. He listens to the sound of the thundering boots following him closely. His heart is in a tachycardiac mode and he can feel his blood rushing through it. His bones are creaking from the stress.

After thirty minutes of continuous running and dodging curses, he realises that being disillusioned is doing him no good; the Snatchers are still following him because the snow clad ground is aiding them in tracking him by making his footsteps clear. He gives up on that trick and regains his visibility. Remaining invisible had just been draining energy from him, vital energy that he needs to stay alive. So, instead of that, he creates a shield around himself.

He tries moving the fingers of his left hand but they remain as still as stone. He can only manage simple spells like _Protego_ from his right hand. It seems that dueling is not going to be a option for him today.

Colin has always been a fast runner. He recounts the numerous times he had won races at his Muggle school in the small town of Axminister. He remembers the many times he had been faster than his older cousins.

A stream is coming up his way, he can see the rushing water. After the stream he can spot the clearing of the forest and the beginnings of the town of Somerton. They have still not lost him and they are still firing spells with rapid ferocity. They could have ended the chase a long time ago by apparating in front of him but they have not and he can tell that they are throughly enjoying hunting him down.

"Come on, Creevey," he mutters after he briefly glances back at his chasers, "you can do this. It's just a little jump, like those hurdle races back home."

And jump he does.

His feet leave the forest floor with a powerful push and there is this exhilarating feeling of weightlessness for less than a second and then he is back on the ground. Colin lands imperfectly - he has not done this for a long while now - and he stumbles badly. His concentration gets broken and the shield protecting him vanishes.

And then they hit him with something very sharp, like a heated up, two edged sword. It burns through his flesh. He cannot hear the incantation, but it stings and the whole of his back is on fire and he can feel something wet and warm sliding between his skin and his shirt. Blood. The ordeal does not end there though. They hit him with that mysterious, blasted spell again and his legs lose their balance. He falls into the thick layer of the freezing cold snow.

The ice pricks his skin in the most awful of ways and the chilling wind pinches him. He can imagine that an ominous, large, crimson patch is present on his back, ruining the brown pullover his mum had made for him during last winter. Noises of apparition make him close his eyes and be as still as a log. From the number of voices he can guess that two of them have come to check him up.

One of them rolls him over by using his feet. The pointy tip of his boot grinds painfully against his abdomen and Colin bites his tongue to keep himself from wincing.

His head is spinning but he can hear them muttering the words 'mudblood' and 'reward' and 'no'.

And then he knows no more.

. . . ...

 **Are you intrigued? Thoughts? Now wait for chapter 1. :)**


	2. Chapter 1: The Edge Of Destruction

. . . ...

 _ **Survival**_

 _Chapter 1: The Edge Of Destruction_

 **09:30 pm; 30th June 1997**

Colin is standing in front of Vane in their usual meeting spot - the dark, abandoned corridor with the blank, white portrait on the sixth floor. Like always, his face is all covered up with the help of his goggles, scarf and hat, so that she cannot find out who he is. A cool summer breeze blows around them as he hands her the vials for tonight's selling.

They seldom exchange words during their meetings at evenings and the talking usually happens after the selling has happened, that is, after midnight.

But this evening is an exception.

She catches hold of his cold hand with her own warm one as he turns around to head back to the Common Room. A shiver runs through him at the contact and he halts.

Her hand grips his hand tighter.

"I feel that something terrible is going to happen tonight, Faceless Boy," she whispers. There is no usual tinge of humour present in her voice while using one of her stupid cognomens for him.

"No, there is going to be no such thing, Vane," he replies, removing his hand from her grasp, "You know that nobody would dare open their mouth regarding this to the professors due to my security spell."

"I wasn't talking about the business," she murmurs while looking out through the window. "I was talking about the School. I feel something awful is going to happen in a few hours from now."

"You're over thinking," he tells her calmly. Even though his tone is cool, he cannot help but wonder if there is some horrid truth hidden in her words.

"I hope so, Faceless Boy. I hope so," she whispers and walks past him, leaving him alone with his mumbling thoughts.

•••••

 **10:31 pm**

The Common Room is silent as he adds up the profit he has earned from his illegal potions business in the past month while sitting in his usual corner. He is adding 162 to 257 when he feels his pocket getting hot. He quickly shoves his hand into his trouser pocket to take out the DA galleon and find the words, 'Death Eaters have infiltrated Hogwarts. Come to the Astronomy Tower. Now!' engraved upon it.

Within a second, he stuffs the parchment upon which he had been doing his calculations into his pocket and stands up. He sees Ginny exiting through the portrait hole and he races to catch up with her; he cannot let her go alone. They may not be on the best of terms with each other right now, but he absolutely cannot let her go alone.

What he does not realise is that his little brother has already seen him follow her. Before he knows it, Dennis is jumping out of his seat at the other corner of the room and before he can do anything, his brother has already stupefied him.

As he hits the ground, Colin hears Dennis' whispered words:

"Not tonight. You're still not ready to fight. Maybe some other night, but not tonight."

And all he wants to reply is:

 _"Oh Dennis, I couldn't be more ready."_

He cannot say anything, but even in this hazy state of mine he understands that Dennis is just trying to protect him from a war that they can no longer avoid.

He lies unconscious on the floor for a few minutes before his brother levitates him to his dormitory and puts him in his bed. Colin tosses and turns in his sleep, thinking of Ginny Weasley.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry. Just come back, please!" he mutters over and again but dream Ginny walks away every time. And he slumps to the ground every time in wretched agony. He should not have had ever told her that Michael Corner was bad for her. He should not ever have had drunk that damned firewhiskey and got stoned with Dean Thomas in front of the fireplace in the Common Room and then dared to disobey her orders as a prefect.

But he had done all those nasty things and now he cannot do anything to undo them. He cannot tell her anything, not even the fact that he has come to love her.

•••••

 **12:45 am; 1st July 1997**

His dorm mate, Lewis Macmillan, shakes him back to consciousness. Colin sits up groggily, rubbing his eyes and in a few seconds, he catches hold of the frantic look on Macmillan's face. For the first time in six years, the boy isn't busy sneering at him or calling him nasty things. He looks around to see that his other dorm mates have expressions mimicking Macmillan's on their faces. Their horror and fright is spilling out.

"Jimmy Peakes just came here, Creevey. He told me that Dumbledore's dead!" Lewis Macmillan mutters.

"What?" he spats as he stands up, throwing away the last remnants of his sleep.

"It's true," Freyan Ulothrix pipes up from behind Macmillan.

He runs out before anyone of them can tell him anything else. They follow him. A sweat breaks out on his forehead by the time he exits through the portrait hole. He rushes down the moving staircases and his dorm mates lose him; he is too fast for the likes of them.

As soon as he is out in the open, the cool night wind greets him with a fresh gust directed right on his face. Subconsciously, his eyes scan the growing crowd for two people: his brother and Romilda Vane. He spots both of them standing with their respective group of friends and he involuntarily takes in a deep breath. They are okay. They are fine.

Suddenly, someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around to find one of his oldest friends - a friend with whom he has not talked in a really long time.

Luna Lovegood's large, grey eyes stare right through him, as if deciphering what he has been up to throughout the year. She gives him a weak smile which says more than any words ever could.

•••••

 **07:30 am**

In the morning, Colin dresses up in a plain shirt and black trousers. He wears his Gryffindor tie and exits his dormitory.

The Common Room is silent. Almost everyone he sees is looking lost, terrified or on the brink of tears. He knows his days of coming back to Hogwarts are over now. He spots Ginny in the far corner of the vast room and his legs automatically head towards her.

"Hello," he offers weakly, noticing that they are now nearly the same height.

She nods in response and leans herself against the wall. She might not have replied with words, but she has responded, which means that yesterday's night's events have shaken her so much that she has forgotten her ire regarding him.

He has to say something - _anything_.

He always wants to say something, wants these useless feelings to evacuate his soul and go out into the open but as each day rolls by, he feels that they are meant for nothing but a heavy weight attached to a noose running around his neck, slowly choking him until he falls to the ground in a heap of dead muscles and flesh.

"I don't know when we'll see each other next, Ginny and I just wanted to say that I...that I..."

She raises her eyebrows ever so slightly and tilts her neck to reveal an angry, red scar on it. He is distracted by the sight.

"I will always remember you," he breathes out finally, says these five words confidently instead of certain other five words that have been struck in his throat for what feels like an eternity.

"Me too Colin, me too," she murmurs with the smile he has come to adore.

Somewhere out there, a deafening thunderclap bursts forth.

•••••

 **05:00 pm; 2nd July 1997**

It has been raining cats and dogs since yesterday. Perhaps even nature is mourning the loss of the old headmaster.

All exams and classes have been postponed, meaning they would not happen. There is nothing to do, nothing except sitting in a half dazed state by an open window in the Common Room and watching the stormy wind wreck havoc with the pouring rain.

A few minutes ago, Professor McGonagall had come to announce that the funeral was going to be held tomorrow. They had listened to her in utter silence.

Nobody wants to speak anything at all.

•••••

 **01:05 pm; 3rd July 1997**

It is a hot summer afternoon and the lolling clouds in the sky are coloured a dismal grey and brown due to an earlier thunderstorm. Their colours are fitting for the occasion. A light breeze is rustling the leaves on the trees and the lush grass on the ground. An array of golden chairs is spread around in a neat pattern. These chairs are occupied by a silent crowd dressed in midnight black which is surrounding a long, dark brown coloured table. Upon this table, the worn body of a wise, old man lies.

This is the funeral of Albus Dumbledore.

A single tear runs down old Professor McGonagall's cheek. Harry, Ron and Hermione are all huddled together, crying. Susan Bones is weeping openly. Even Vane, who is sitting beside him, is not creating a racket for once. Dennis is clutching his hand. Dean Thomas is gazing at Ginny, who in turn is floating up in the air on her broom, preferring to be alone. All the Slytherins seem as if someone has opened their mouths and cut off their tongues.

As for him, he is thinking about his mother and father. With Dumbledore dead, the Death Eaters would not hesitate in killing them at all. They probably hate them the most. Two Muggle-borns in a single family, who would have thought it to be possible? He realises that if You-Know-Who had won the first war, he would have killed his entire family in the blink of an eye.

And right now, there is nothing stopping him from doing so, is there?

He sighs.

The Merpeople have risen up from the Lake and they are singing some mournful song in their language. He cannot understand a single word but it still makes him sorrowful. He glances the space beside him to find that Dennis has begun crying. Fascinatingly, Vane remains impassive. Her eyes seem extraordinarily bright, though. Soon the song stops and some bearded man comes up to give a speech.

Colin does not listen to his chatter. He catches some vague words like 'nobility of character' and 'intelligence' and 'courage' but they pass through his ears mostly not comprehended. The monotonous voice of the man stops after some time and Professor McGonagall stands up and beckons them towards the table on which the old headmaster is resting.

Subconsciously, the silent crowd behaves as one. There is no noise and no echo of even a single screamed order or command from the prefects. They form a queue and take their turns in a perfectly peaceful manner. The sight is surreal; till yesterday, the kids who had created a shrill ruckus throughout the endless corridors of the old castle, are all unspeaking and disciplined today. In fact they are so disciplined and so _un-child-_ like that it looks like some evil spirit has washed upon them, leaving torrents of misery and suffering in its wake. It is chilling to see them like this.

When he finds himself standing beside the edge of the table, peering down at the old, bearded man, a wind which is far too cold for the warm, Scottish summer blows past his face and makes his mind freeze.

For a moment, time strikes around him, and then the entire scene screams at him.

 _Run._

•••••

 **03:00 pm**

As Colin trudges up the steps to the Gryffindor Tower, he cannot help but feel that with the death of the old man, his childhood has died too.

Growing up can be treacherous, especially for those forced to undergo it too quickly.

•••••

 **03:30 pm**

At half past three, Colin finds himself collecting his hat, goggles and scarf from his trunk and leaving the Common Room. His dorm mates are either asleep or half-asleep and they do not notice his exit.

Dumbledore died two days ago. He still cannot bring himself to believe it even though he had just come back from attending his funeral. He has been right all along and now he and his brother will never be able to come back to Hogwarts.

He wraps his scarf around his face and neck as he walks down to the sixth floor. Nobody is watching him, anyway; everyone's busy mourning. Something tells him that Vane would be out in that corridor, waiting for him.

When he reaches their meeting place, he finds her looking out from a window in their abandoned corridor and he goes and stands beside her. A cool, soothing summer wind is blowing outside - the aftermath of the early morning storm.

Colin can clearly see that she does not look her usual bossy and commanding self today. Her shoulders are hunched as she leans over the sill and she has not cared to brush her wavy hair. She does not look like Romilda Vane usually does.

"I guess this is it then," he tells her while gazing through the window.

"Yes. The end of an era." Her voice sounds normal, composed. But from his experience in the past month that he has got to know her, he can deduce the slight tinge of remorse and nostalgia coursing through Vane.

"The end of an era," he agrees after a brief moment. "We did have good times, though; you with the boys chasing after you and me earning money."

"And yet," she whispers, sounding very faraway and distant, "you never told me who you are. I never got to see who hides behind this long scarf and these large goggles. You never told me who the boy behind this mask is, who Anonymous Dark Master of Potions is."

"Do not call me that or any other names that you may fancy," he grumbles strictly, making her smile weakly. "And I did tell you!" he counters. "I told you that we had a very big argument in 1993, didn't I?"

"And I told you that that doesn't help me in finding the answer!"

"You aren't getting any more hints."

"Let's not fight, okay?" she pleads. "Not today, please. It's our last day together. I don't know if you'll even come back to finish what we started here."

"I won't," he says evenly. "Somewhere all my darkest dreams are gathering. I can't escape my nightmares."

Her face looks sick, as if lightening has just struck her, but she does away with the expression quickly.

"You're a Muggle-born, aren't you, Anonymous Dark Master of Potions?"

He grits his teeth at her repeated usage of the irritating name, not that she can see him doing it with his scarf in the way. Colin does not reply.

Vane takes a small step towards him, closing the distance between them and her eyes meet his in a strangely piercing gaze - a stare which penetrates the layer of the dark tinted glass between them. He knows she really cannot watch his eyes, but somehow his heart skips a beat because it feels like she is doing exactly that.

"I may not know who you are, but I do know that I have to thank you for making me your ally and seeing me as your equal. And I know only one way to go about that."

Before he can realise what is happening, she has tugged down his scarf to expose his lips, yanked his head down to her level and molded her soft lips to his chapped ones. He does not know what to do. He has never been kissed and he has no idea how to go about it, but she solves this for him as she pushes him into the wall, grabs his hands and places them on her hips, all the while kissing him senseless. Her body feels soft and warm against his. She places her hands in his trouser's pockets. He can taste her fruity ChapStick. It is a heady sensation.

His eyes drift close and he finds himself thinking that Ginny Weasley is the one snogging the daylights out of him. It is chaos. It is incredible.

A sudden slim finger just behind his ear tries to remove his goggles and this action brings him back to reality. He pulls himself away from her.

"I can see what you were trying to do there, Vane," he speaks in between pants, not realising that he has not re-done his scarf and that she can hear his untainted voice for the very first time.

She is grinning like the Cheshire Cat and her skin is glimmering with sweat, her wavy black hair framing her oval face. If he had not been so much in love with Ginny, he would have definitely told Vane that she is looking beautiful.

"That was my parting gift to you!" She giggles and then quickly contains it. Being serious does not suit her. He does not like her being serious. "Promise me that you'll survive this war and come looking for me. And then we'll have many exciting adventures together." Her brown eyes look unusually bright and her head bends down.

Colin forces her to look up by lifting her chin with his left hand's fingers. He thinks about Ginny and how she is never going to be his. Yes, she might have finally talked to him two days ago but that was probably because of the shock she must have been in due to yesterday's events. In her shock, she must have forgotten of her ire regarding him. Otherwise, she had no reason to talk to him.

He knows that the two of them would never go back to being be what they had been - best friends. She would always be Harry's now and that would always act as a sore point for him. Perhaps his future lies in selling potions with Gypsy Girl.

"I will, Romilda Vane."

"You better, Colin Creevey."

He freezes. She is smiling stupidly and he wants to wipe it off her confident face.

"How...?"

"You know, I had my suspicions from the beginning. Why do you think I even came in the first place? By the way, recognise this?" She hands him out a Muggle ballpoint pen - specifically, his prized Parker. The sneaky, little minx must have taken it out of his pocket while kissing him!

He promptly tries to snatch it back but she is too fast for him. Vane dodges him easily and somehow manages to remove his hat. She flings it to the ground in a fluid motion and runs a hand through his mousey brown hair, mussing it up in the process. Then she quickly pulls away his goggles and her wicked, sparkling eyes meet his tired, dull ones with those awful dark circles underneath them for the first time, but the entrancing moment is ephemeral. He catches hold of her wrists but she manages to free herself and starts sprinting down the corridor.

"Give me my things back, Vane!"

"Take them if you can, Creevey!"

Oh yes, he is definitely going to survive and then come back to teach this girl a lesson.

He breaks into a furious run after her and she does not stand a chance against his speed. In a matter of minutes, he has caught her and put his arms around her waist. He holds her close and kisses the top of her head, his lips caressing her skin in an oddly affectionate gesture. He does not know why he does it.

"I'll miss doing this business," she murmurs after he has let go of her.

"Same here."

And he means it.

•••••

 **8:30 pm**

All of them - even the first years - eat their dinner in complete silence. Most of them, especially the older Muggle-borns like him and his brother, are barely eating. Instead of doing that, they are busy gazing around, their eyes slowly drinking in the glory of their beloved school for the last time before facing the ugly world lying outside its confines.

•••••

 **11:00 pm**

The train is leaving tomorrow morning.

Sweat is pouring down his face as he packs his trunk in a furious haste. Dennis is probably doing the same in his own dorm. The clothes go in first, followed by all the school textbooks and his beloved Chemistry tomes. His second hand potions set along with his dear camera are the last things to be stored snugly on the top.

Satisfied with his work, Colin snaps the lid shut with a loud thud. The sound reverberates throughout the emptiness of the room. He looks around the dorm and glances at all the empty beds of his dorm mates. They are already gone and he is not going to miss them at all, considering the bullies they had been to him for the past six years.

He takes in a deep breath and lies down to sleep. He can rest for one night before planning strategies and running like hell.

Outside, the rain begins its incessant pouring yet again.


	3. Chapter 2: The Brink Of Disaster

**_Survival_**

 _Chapter 2: The Brink Of Disaster_

 **10:30 am; 4th July 1997; Hogwarts**

Colin trudges along the stairs as he carries his trunk up to the carriages which are lined in a neat order. He knows invisible beings called Thestrals pull them and he wonders whether he will be able to see them after the war.

That is, if he survives it.

 _Gulp._

He suspects that Luna can see them; she always did seem one of the more mysterious ones out of the student population at Hogwarts. Anyway, what was he thinking about - Luna Lovegood of all people at this crazy time. He ought to think of his brother and Mum and Dad...

Oh Lord! Mum and Dad...Whatever was he going to tell them?

What could he tell them about his and Dennis's going away? More importantly, how would he tell them?

"You can do this, Creevey," he mutters to himself as he puts his trunk into a carriage. His brother follows him.

"Were you just saying something, Colin?" Dennis asks. His tone seems distracted and hurried, as if he is scanning the teeming crowd for someone.

"Nothing you need to worry about," he tells him and boards the vehicle. "Come on now, we're getting late."

His little brother sighs lowly as he takes his hand and helps himself into the carriage. The other seats are full with some seventh year Gryffindors.

And off they go.

•••••

 **11:00 am; Hogsmeade Station**

The place is teeming with witches and wizards as they crowd to get into the Express. Sounds of baggages and trunks banging against each other fill the air with an array of noises. Some warm goodbyes and handshakes occur. People hug each other hoping to see their friends after the break.

People do all these things. But he doesn't.

Colin doesn't have the time. He is busy running away from this place. He first puts their trunks into the train and then he clutches Dennis' hand in his own as he pulls him inside. It doesn't take too much of effort; the teeming crowd effortlessly pushes them inside.

He can't wait to get home and hide away his parents. Dennis does not understand why he is in such a hurry, but Dennis doesn't even know what this elder brother has got up his sleeve. He is just a teen, almost fifteen and he can't fathom what this year is going to bring for him.

But Colin knows. And he knows how to run - he always has. Back when they were little kids, he had known how to come first in those hundred metre sprints. He has not forgotten the skill.

Romilda looks at him from a distance and she gives him a smile - a smile which says, "Don't worry, I have got your secret."

•••••

 **4:17 pm; Platform 9 3/4**

When he had been younger, Colin used to call Platform 9 3/4 as Platform 9.75. He had thought that it sounded and looked more cooler with the inclusion of the decimal point.

But as he puts his feet on the solid ground of the platform, he feels sick. Nausea is not enough of a word to describe this kind of sickness. Maybe he is just being paranoid but it is unsettling nonetheless. He shrinks both his and his brother's trunks and stuffs them in one of his pockets.

He doesn't want to leave the crowd of the platform because that would mean leaving the safety that comes with being in a large mass of people. Colin looks around listlessly before following Dennis through the magical barrier.

He has made sure that his parents would not arrive to take them back through the 5:30 pm Devon Express.

"Hey, Colin, I don't see Mum and Dad. Do you?"

"They aren't coming, Den."

"Why? They always come; maybe the train is running late."

He looks around with wide eyes before leaning down to his brother's height. "I wrote them a letter and told them that we would like to come back ourselves. Look, they even sent money for the tickets."

He reaches into his jeans pocket to take out four twenty pound notes.

"Wow, that's a lot of money but why am I knowing this about only now? And why are you whispering?"

Colin straightens himself with self-consiousness and looks around for one more time. He hadn't realised that he had bent down and that he was whispering.

"I forgot. Simple. Let's head out now."

"We're going to buy the tickets, right?"

"No, we're going to take a taxi."

•••••

 **5:07 pm; Charing Cross Road**

"Okay, I'm seriously confused now. Why are we here of all places? What about going home?"

"Those answers can wait, Dennis. We have got to buy some things before."

He doesn't stand to give further explanations and walks ahead. Dennis follows him, mirroring his actions. He stops when they reach a broken, old shop.

At least it looks like a broken shop, but both of them know better.

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Dennis hisses. "Why?"

Colin does not look at him and quickly goes inside. Dennis has no choice but to follow him.

They pass through the establishment without trying to draw any attention towards themselves. But when Colin takes a left inside of right in the cool courtyard of the bar, Dennis can no longer contain his perplextion. It comes out in torrents of rage and bafflement.

"Why for Lord's sake are we going to Knockturn Alley?" A pause. "Why aren't we going home? Don't tell me that Mum and Dad know about this!"

"No, they most certainly don't. I agree. But this is important. Very important. We're here to buy some things - things which you won't get in Diagon Alley. Buckle up, because we're going into the depths of Knockturn Alley."

Dennis just shakes his head before following him. He cannot, cannot understand why Colin is behaving like this; it's as if someone has replaced his brother with some kind of a stranger and more mysterious version. As they turn for the Alley, Dennis peeks from behind Colin and catches a glimpse of the infamous, dodgy place.

Colin continues walking, Dennis following him closely. They try to not look at the strange customers and inhabitants of the Alley and keep going on. Colin doesn't pause and when he does, it happens outside an old, creepy looking shop - Ye Olde Curiosity Shop.

This is a shop in Knockturn Alley where one can purchase curios related to the Dark Arts. It is located between Cobb & Webb's and Borgin and Burkes, and it is run by a bearded wizard who refuses to sell anything to 'young boys'.

But Colin is determined.

The shop door opens with a clink and the small bell over their heads rings sharply. The bearded wizard gives them one look before saying -

"This is not a place for young boys. I can sell you nothing."

"But you've exactly got the thing that young boys like us want."

"I wonder what that could be."

He moves forward, reaches into his pocket and empties 12 Galleons on the counter. Dennis can just look at the proceedings with wide eyes; he cannot believe what's going on in front of him. Questions are whirring in his mind.

Colin says, "I want the potion that removes the Trace."

The shopkeeper looks at him with narrowed eyes, eyebrows drawn together.

"Why don't you go to Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary? They might have it."

"I know for a fact that they don't have it. They don't sell unicorn blood - do you really think they would have a banned potion?"

The bearded man huffs before bending down to retrieve a large vessel. He empties some of its contents into a large vial.

"There, you have it. A boy had come many years ago to my father, asking for the very same thing you are buying from me. I hope I don't regret it selling it to you. Now run along, you two, before I decide to change my mind."

They do run, colliding with people and emerge in Diagon Alley. Colin stops for a moment before running again and his little brother has no choice but to follow him. Dennis feels helpless. Why isn't Colin listening to him? Why are they shopping for strange things? Why isn't he being told anything?

They run until they reach 2nd Hand Brooms. They go inside with empty hands and return with two brooms, one for each of them.

Dennis doesn't like this snooping around. He doesn't like it at all, but he has no choice.

•••••

 **6:30 pm; King's Cross Station**

"We're are going home, right? Please say yes."

"Yes, Dennis, we're going home, but I don't think we will be staying there."


	4. Chapter 3: Arrival

_**Survival**_

 _Chapter 3: Arrival_

 **9:00 pm; Axminster, Devon**

The Creevey home is near to the local railway station so it takes the brothers just a little over ten minutes to reach it. Their mum hugs them warmly and their dad greets them cheerfully. Hot soup and pie are there for dinner and Colin and Dennis gladly gobble up their mother's delicious preparation.

For this moment, everything is normal. But Colin can't help the fast beating of his heart. He cannot imagine how he's going to tell his parents that him and Dennis will go into hiding and that they themselves will have to go away.

Colin knows he's not really an important target, but he knows that the Death Eaters surely despise his family for producing not one, but two Muggle-borns. Imagine what they could do to their parents for that grave _sin_?

He eats his food and lets everything be normal. Just for one night, he supposes, everything can be normal.

 **3:00 am**

Dennis awakes in the middle of the night to go to the washroom when he hears the sound of footsteps from Colin's room. The insomnia from Hogwarts is still there, he thinks. Should he interrupt his brother's midnight musings?

Dennis doesn't know what is wrong with Colin. At Hogwarts his elder brother had always brushed it aside as the stress from his OWLS year but Dennis knows better. He has seen people in his year and he knows that things are not as bad as they seem to be with his brother.

His brother seems someone else entirely. He has purple bruises on his body. Dennis shivers at the memory of that sight. He had seen it today evening after dinner when Colin had come out of the bathroom, wearing a towel as if nothing was wrong with him. His eyes seem different too. It's as if the light has gone from them.

It's as if he's almost a...ghost.

To add to the absence of the light from his eyes, he has horrible dark circles too. Dennis wonders if he even knows his brother. He wonders this question a lot these days. Have they grown apart? A childish thought comes to him.

Does Colin not love him anymore?

Dennis cannot bear to hear the answer to that as 'no'. But he needs to know.

So, he knocks. He knocks upon his brother's door at three in the morning.

The footsteps come to a halt for a moment. Then they resume, becoming slightly louder as they head towards the door. With a click, he sees Colin looming over his head.

He looks...traumatised, for lack of a better word.

"Hey, Dennis," he almost yawns. "What do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

Colin glances backwards and then says, "Sure. You might as well as know what I am up to."

Dennis walks upto the study desk lying in corner which is lit by the lamp lying upon it. That lamp is the only current source of light in the room. Colin's beloved, red coloured Chemistry book and some papers lie scattered over it. His brother sits on his chair.

"I am...going to make many tins of poisonous gas," Colin says suddenly.

Dennis always knew Colin had the potential to be hundred percent weird, but this is beyond weird.

"And what on Earth will you do that for?"

"For killing Death Eaters." A pause. "Listen Dennis, times are going to be rough for us. We are Muggle-borns and they don't like our kind at all. They will kill us first chance they get. And Mum and Dad? They have no better chances of survival either. They must hate our family for producing not one, but two freaking mudbloods. Do you understand what this means?"

"What?" Dennis frowns.

"We run, you dummy. We send Mum and Dad faraway from here as soon as possible and then, we run."

"Ah...okay...but how do we convince our parents to go away? Dad has a job here. No way he would agree to your ridiculous scheming."

"He will have to — I will make sure of it."

"Colin, are you alright? You've been worrying me ever since the start of this year."

Colin's face softens. Dennis doesn't understand, not right now, but he will...soon.

"Dennis, tell me honestly, did you hear about the illegal potions business that was going on this year in Hogwarts?"

His brother nods his head fervently.

Before Colin can open his mouth, Dennis asks —

"Have you been on drugs this whole time?"

"No, but I was the one making them."

"No!"

"Yes. Romilda Vane and I were running that business. She wanted love potions from me and I, on the other hand, wanted to make some money. We're not exactly rich, are we?"

"Colin, that's wicked. Truly wicked. I saw Cho Chang's face. She was in misery! And yes, I knew she was doing them potions."

Colin turned his face the other way. "Dennis," he said quietly, "do you think the Death Eaters care about morals?"

"No, but — "

"No buts. Nothing. They don't give a damn about morals. So why should we? Why should _I_?"

He rose from his seat to face Dennis, who looked equal parts curious and terrified. Colin didn't want to do this, but it was time to let his brother know how things were going to be now.

"Dennis, look, pack your bags. Not many bags, just one or two. Fill them with all the necessities. Nothing useless. Tomorrow, I will talk to Mum and Dad. You'll be there, of course. They will have to listen. And then, we we have made up their minds to go away, we will go to Ernest's."

"Ernest eats my mind with his Chemistry."

"Well, suck it. We need him right now."

"Ah, I understand. For your gas tins, right?"

"Yep."

"Colin...do you love me?" his brother asks carefully.

"Don't be so sentimental, Dennis. It makes me too barmy when people are sentimental."

"No, but do you?"

"Of course I love you, you big softie. Of course I love you. I am doing all of this so we can live in a safe world when all this has passed."

Dennis hugs him and stays like that for a long time.

I am sixteen, Colin thinks as he hugs back Dennis, and I think I understand what people mean to each other.


	5. Chapter 4: The Run Begins

**_Survival_**

 _Chapter 4: The Run Begins_

 **9:00 am; 5th July 1997; Axminister**

The Creevey home is cosy like it always has been as Mrs Creevey serves breakfast to her husband and two sons. After a short while, she joins them on the table and everyone enjoys the food. Or rather, the adults enjoy the food, while the two brothers eat it up with rather queasy stomachs. They are queasy because of what they are about to do and Colin is positively more nauseated than Dennis

"Mum and Dad," Colin begins, "We won't be going back to Hogwarts this year."

Their parents look very, very baffled by this proposition of his.

"But son," his father says, "aren't your OWL thing's results going to come this August? Also, isn't next year Dennis' turn to give those exams?"

"Dad, forget those exams. Things are much more difficult now," Dennis manages to say. "You'll have to go away. Somewhere properly foreign to be exact."

Colin stands up. It's almost like he had been waiting while Dennis had been speaking, preparing himself.

"Look," he says, "there's this bad guy who's spoken of as, 'He Who Must Not Be Named'."

"You've mentioned him before," his mother whispers.

"Yes. And he's back. Properly back. He's going to wreck havoc and hunt people like Dennis and I. And he won't spare the Muggles too. He hates our kind. He hates us. People are touting Harry Potter to be the Wizarding World's saviour but I don't believe that nonsense."

"I have read that book of yours, Colin. I read it with you, remember? Hogwarts: A History?" their mum says.

Colin nods.

"That book says that Harry defeated that dark wizard as a baby. Surely, he can do it again?"

"Mum, you're putting too much faith in him. He might be the Wizarding World's saviour, but he is not our saviour. I don't believe that. That's bullshit."

"Colin!"

"Hush dear…" their dad says. "What do you believe then, son?"

"I believe that only we ourselves can save us."

"Those are wise words for a sixteen year old. But what I don't understand is why you aren't coming with us? Like, okay, I understand that your Mum and I need to go away somewhere foreign, as you put it, but why aren't you two coming with us?"

"Because Hogwarts will need us," Dennis pipes up after his long silence. "Because we need to be here when the final battle happens. They'll need soldiers."

Mrs Creevey looks like she is about to faint. "My babies go and fight in a battle? Unthinkable!" she exclaims.

"It is what it is," Colin asserts.

"I am afraid we can't allow you to stay here, son. Either you come with us or we all stay right — " his dad taps the table twice, " — here."

"Dennis, I knew this was going to be difficult," he says. Then he turns to face his parents. "I am sorry, Mum and Dad. I really am."

"Why?" they ask unanimously.

Colin shakes his head. Dennis looks at his dejected brother. After that, everything is in frantic snapshots.

Suddenly, Colin's wand is out. And then, a single word.

" _Imperio_!"

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Dennis almost hisses. "This is fucked up. You just put Mum and Dad under the Imperius, not to mention the fact that you're still carrying the Trace. What the fuck, Colin! They'll have us hanging by our necks now."

"Oh come on, learn to follow up, Dennis. I drank that Knockturn Alley Trace removing potion before doing this. I bought it for emergencies like these. I have put half of my earnings in the drawer where Mum puts in the savings. Look at them, they're out of it. They'll go away. I have done what I to do."

"But – "

"Not. A. Word. About. Morals. Now come on!"

And then Colin can see it in his brother's eyes; Dennis is afraid of him.

 **11:00 am**

They are ready to run. A while ago, their mum had come to ask them what she had been doing and that she could not quite remember it. Colin told her that she and their dad had planned a visit to the quiet French seaside for some months by sailing across the Channel and then she had said, "Oh yeah, of course."

The Imperius is working.

Dennis doesn't like this. Dennis doesn't like this at all. But Colin's in charge and Colin's being super weird by even his own standards. Their mum comes to bid them goodbye and when Dennis hugs her, he knows that he isn't going to get this opportunity for a long, long time. He can almost cry.

They watch their parents go off to the station and then it hits Dennis that the war that had seemed so far away is suddenly so very near. Perhaps his older brother had been much more intuitive than he had ever given him credit for.

When their parents' silhouettes have blended in with the horizon, Colin says, "I think it's time we started packing too."

And pack they do. Colin casts an undetectable extension charm on two bags while Dennis empties the two bags he had packed earlier on Colin's orders during the previous night. "Dennis, pack only the necessities. You might think we are going to have a lot of space because we're miniaturising everything and we have undetectable extension charms, but too much things, and it's going to be a mess. So, just keep the bare minimum."

At this point, Dennis knows better than to question his brother. Colin goes up to his bedroom and unpins the map of Britain from the wall adjacent to his study table. He brings it downstairs and keeps it on the dining table for Dennis to see.

"We're here," he mutters and circles Axminister with a red marker. "First we'll go to Ernest's in Charmouth, and then we'll see it from there. I know we can stay there for as long as we like." Colin feels like a military general as he says all this. He knows he appears rather calm for the situation they are in, but inside his mind, it's going on and on like, "Fuck, fuck fuck!"

"And how do we go there? Train?"

Colin thinks of the two brooms lying in his bag upstairs.

"We fly, of course."


	6. Chapter 5: Reaching Charmouth

**_Survival_**

 _Chapter 5: Reaching Charmouth_

 **4:00 pm; 5** **th** **July 1997; Somewhere over Devon**

Colin has never liked flying.

It had initially excited him as an eleven year old back in his first year at Hogwarts, but now, he would rather pass. It's rather paradoxical how he had been the one to suggest they fly to Ernest's. Dennis is flying quite skilfully ahead of him while he is busy lagging behind. Or he thinks Dennis is ahead of him. They are both disillusioned and he cannot quite put it where his brother exactly is.

He feels like he could retch at this moment. Madam Hooch had been quite right when she had remarked that flying was never going to be his forte. Colin cannot help but think of Ginny at this moment. That girl had always been good with a broom and they had so many adventures together. Well, she had been the one adventuring; he had just been snapping photos with his Argus Matchmatic. He remembers how they had used to sneak out together at midnight during their fourth year to go to the Quidditch ground.

He wonders if she ever thinks of him.

Nah, probably not. Not after that 'fight' on the morning after the night he had been stoned with Dean Thomas.

A girl with shimmering, tan skin and long black hair replaces Ginny in his mind's eyes as he continues to speed after his little brother.

Romilda must wonder about him, he's sure. But he would not risk contacting her. Not in times like these. Colin doesn't know what he feels regarding Romilda.

She makes him feel things that he thought had died with the end of his friendship with Ginny.

They had started out as enemies – enemies vying for Harry's attention and now they are in this ugly middle where they had been running an illegal drug trade in Hogwarts together. And they had kissed once – quite passionately. Colin does not know what to make of her.

She makes him feel things he once had felt – no, still feels for Ginny and he does not like this at all.

Romilda is beautiful though – it is a pity he never ever did tell her that.

When will he see her next? When will they talk again?

Suddenly he hears Dennis scream, "Wait!" from somewhere ahead of him.

Colin stops quite miraculously before he could collide with his brother. But obviously, he doesn't know that he could have collided in the first place, since they're both invisible. They are flying near the clouds and it is really hard to breathe.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I think we're over Dorset now."

"Oh nice, let's fly to Charmouth, then. Remember, there's a red church at the edge of the town. That's how we identify it. When we get there, we land in the forest and then walk to Ernest's house. Got it?"

"Yep."

And on they go.

 **6:30 pm; Charmouth**

They land in the safety of the forest and remove the Disillusionment Charm from themselves. Colin finally bends over and vomits in some nearby bushes, and Dennis runs his hand over his back in soothing motions. When he is finally back to his senses, he tells Dennis to walk ahead.

The brothers enter the town and head straight for the church. They enter it and while Dennis prays in front of the altar, Colin goes to find the priest to ask for directions to the seaside; Ernest's house is near a hotel called Hensleigh House. The church is quite old fashioned and Colin is really just wandering around when he hears a voice behind him.

"Hello, my child, what are you looking for?"

"Uh, I was just wondering what are the directions to Hensleigh House? Can you please tell me?"

"Of course. It's just a straight road from here. You'll pass through the centre of the town where the baker is at."

"Thank you so much, Father."

Not wasting anymore time, Colin dashes off and pulls Dennis with him on his way out.

They walk for approximately fifteen minutes before stumbling across the baker's. Colin goes inside and buys a baguette; it would not look good to arrive empty handed at Ernest's house. They resume their walking once he is out.

After nearly another ten minutes, they stand outside Ernest's house.

"Well, I hope he's home," Colin says before he rings the bell.

 **7:00 pm; Somerton**

A girl with long, black hair lies in her bed thinking of a boy who probably does not wonder about her. Romilda tosses and turns each night thinking of Colin Creevey. Is this what love feels like? And why is she feeling it for Colin of all people – why not Harry? What is that Potions Boy up to these days? Did he go on the run?

Is he safe?

Romilda wants him to be alive when she next sees him. She wants him to be warm and happy as he lies in her lap and she strokes his soft, mousey hair. She has never been the girl who crushes on boys (with the notable exception of Harry Potter) and this is a wholly new experience.

She remembers the way he had kissed her. It had been so passionate and so unlike the way any one has ever kissed her. She almost giggles as she recounts the scene in her mind – his bewilderment at her knowing his identity during all those times, the way his cute looking lips had puckered up when she showed him his blue Parker pen, the very same pen that she had taken out of his pocket while they had been kissing. She remembers how he had ran – more like sprinted after her as she ran away with it, his goggles and scarf.

Oh God, she's in love, isn't she?

This is messed up.

She is in love with a person who will never love her. She is in love.

Fuck.

"Oh God," she mutters, "please let him be safe and happy and alive."

 _And mine._


End file.
